


Adapt, Survive

by feverbeats



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-24
Updated: 2011-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-20 17:04:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverbeats/pseuds/feverbeats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey," Alex says, "pull my hair again. That would be cool."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adapt, Survive

"Being a huge queer fucking blows."

That would be one of the first things Alex says to Armando, or rather, to the group at large. Amazingly, everyone is cool with it. Hank's mouth quirks a little, in something like pleased surprise, and everyone else just rolls with it.

Everyone's mostly a little baffled, until Raven—No, Mystique—says cheerfully, "I'll bet. I think I get what that's like, a little."

The tension dissolves into conversation.

Armando is the only one who doesn't say anything, because what the hell do you say to that? Do you say, "Sure, must be nice being a cute white boy who can get away with being a queer and being adorable about it?" That wouldn't be fair, probably.

When the others have gone to bed, walking carelessly through the ringing halls of the government facility, Armando bumps Alex's shoulder way too hard and says, "What the hell was that about, anyway?"

"It was about saying 'fuck you' first. Just in case anyone had a problem." Alex is already squaring off like he's ready to fight.

Yeah, Armando tried that. He tried that about eighteen times, with his powers and his skin and his boyfriends, and it always ended with him getting beat up. "Cool," he says instead.

"You have a problem with that?" Alex is practically glowing, which—yeah, is a huge problem.

"I have a problem with the fact that you're about to explode," Armando says carefully, although he's not feeling too careful. This guy rubs him the wrong way.

Then Alex is very much in his space, his chest practically bumping Armando's. "Look, if you have a problem with me—which you _clearly_ do—you better say so now so we can fight it out."

"Yeah, man, all you ever want is a fight." Armando knows better than to take a step back, but it's all he wants to do. "Ever since we all showed up here. What's your problem?"

"I was in _jail_ ," Alex snaps, sort of irrelevantly, as far as Armando can tell.

"I was a taxi driver," Armando counters. "So I guess I'm entitled to be a little psycho, too, huh?"

Humor doesn't defuse Alex, though, it winds him up. Armando should have remembered that.

"Ha ha." Alex's laugh doesn't sound like a real laugh, although it has all the right sounds in it. "I really, really want to beat the shit out of you."

Before Armando can say anything, Alex is on him, all flailing arms and hard little fists. For a guy who's been in prison, he sure doesn't fight like someone who knows how to win. Armando manages to shove him down on the couch, while making sure that neither of them lands a damaging blow. Alex goes down too hard, though, somehow treating the soft couch like a concrete slab.

Armando grabs Alex's hair and forces his head back, finding his hand fisted in Alex's shirt. He hates fights, because once he's in one, he can't stop. Doesn't really want to stop. Alex yelps a little and flinches when Armando slaps him across the face.

"C'mon, man," he pants. "Is that all you've got?"

"You're fucking insane," Armando snaps. "Seriously, what the hell?"

Alex shoves his hips up a little, and okay, Armando is kind of straddling him now for leverage, and—Oh, no. No.

"Could we fuck around?" Alex says, his voice weirdly cautious.

 _Adapt_ , Armando's instincts snap at him. _Adapt, or you'll fucking die._ The more rational part of his brain says, _Hey. This boy is cute and probably not trying to kill you._

"Huh," Armando says. "Yeah, I think we should."

Now that they've gotten that cleared up, Armando relaxes just a fraction, but he can see that Alex is still wound the hell up.

"Hey," Alex says, "pull my hair again. That would be cool."

Armando squeezes his thighs together a little more tightly so he's straddling Alex more seriously. "Sure, whatever gets you off." He gives Alex's hair a rough tug, pulling his head back and exposing his neck.

"Ohh, God, that really hurts," Alex says, his voice hitching.

Armando grinds against Alex a little, still deeply freaked out that he's messing around with his new friend, some dumb kid, in the fucking _break-room_. But this is weird and _good_ , and he's going to let it go just for now. He smacks Alex again, a little harder.

"Mm, good, yeah," Alex mutters. He wriggles down a little further so he's pretty much under Armando. "Sorry, I'm such a freak." He doesn't sound even remotely sorry. The words and the tone don't match up.

"No, it's okay." Armando says, feeling weirdly out of control. He runs a hand through Alex's hair in what he hopes is a soothing way, but somehow it turns into another rough tug. On a whim, he leans in and nuzzles Alex's ear, which turns into a bite.

Alex whimpers and curses under his breath. "Fuck, yes, just like that, baby, come on."

Armando hasn't been called baby in—Well, at least eight months. He likes it. This is so good, and if parts of it are unexpected, he can adapt. He pulls back and little and gets Alex's shirt off, being careful not to rip it.

"You can be rougher," Alex says, eyes shining.

"Not on your clothes, though, maybe," Armando says, and Alex shrugs and nods like he's a little charmed. Armando takes that as his clue to press his hand to the front of Alex's jeans. "Can I--?"

"Do it." Alex's voice is practically a snarl.

Armando gets both their jeans and his own shirt off without flipping out. Alex's cock is really nice, which is a really inappropriate thing to say, but—"Your cock," Armando says, "is excellent."

"Whoa," Alex says. "God, yeah, yours is—I want you inside me."

Armando has heard worse, sillier lines, from people who weren't nearly as cute. "I think I can do that," he says.

"Then I want it hard," Alex says, talking too fast now. "I want you to hurt me."

"Yeah. Got that." Armando shoves him down again, fingers bruising Alex's hips where he grips them. The idea that the marks will be visible tomorrow is surprisingly hot. "I thought you hated me," Armando confides.

"Yeah," Alex says, "I don't know." He arches up and lets Armando suck on his nipples.

Armando slaps Alex's hip hard and bites down around one of Alex's nipples, making Alex cry out. "Fuck, keep quiet," Armando snaps, but he wants Alex so much it's making him dizzy. He slides their cocks together and hits Alex again, this time with his fist.

He thinks for a second that he's gone too far, but Alex just sobs out a breath and says, " _Fuck_. I want to feel it tomorrow, feel all of this, man, come on."

Armando shifts until he's in a position to fuck Alex, then spits on his fingers.

"Wait," Alex says. "Wait, hold on, just fuck me dry. I told you, I want to feel it."

Armando isn't going to argue. He pushes inside Alex faster than he normally would even with someone he'd prepared, the fingers of his left hand digging marks into Alex's thigh as he does.

"Ohgod oh god," Alex mutters. "Fucking ride me, I want—"

Armando shuts him up by hitting him again. It doesn't feel good, exactly, hitting someone, but knowing that Alex _wants_ that—Armando starts to fuck him harder, rocking against him as Alex moans.

Alex wraps his legs around Armando's waist. "Ohh, God, I'm so sorry, I think I'm gonna come, I'm sorry, I can't—"

It's cool, Armando isn't exactly ancient and experienced himself, and the purpling marks on Alex's body are turning him on way more than they should. Yeah, this kid is a total freak, and that's okay. He groans and pounds in and out of Alex, bruising him everywhere he can reach.

Alex comes with a stupid, shuddery sound, and without Armando having touched his cock. Armando finishes only a moment after, pulling out to come across Alex's stomach.

Alex's face shuts down almost immediately, walls coming back up, but Armando isn't having any of that.

"Hey, hon," he says. He runs a hand through Alex's hair roughly. "So, want to be my boyfriend?" It's a long shot, and not exactly a path to survival, but he can't help it. The way Alex looks right now is making him crazy.

Alex laughs. "Are you kidding? Seriously? You . . . do that kind of thing?"

"I do if you do." Armando does, actually, but he's got to save face a little.

Alex nods and presses his hand against Armando's stomach. "Boyfriends, then."


End file.
